Drop Dead Gorgeous

“I did not, but somehow, I’m not surprised that you do.”

I hum, “I also know the average male my age needs roughly twenty minutes before they’re able to go again.”

“Is that so?” Zoey says on a smirk, but she grinds her hips against me as she says it. “Oh, maybe you’re above average?”

“Good inspiration,” I agree, feeling myself harden inside her. Grabbing her hips and pulling her down forcefully, I correct myself. “Gorgeous inspiration.”

Epilogue

Zoey

It’s brunch, Zoey. No big deal. Smile, eat, and don’t say anything weird. You can do this.

I hope that’s true because today is most definitely a big deal. I’m meeting Blake’s family—the people he loves, the ones who shaped him and who made him believe in happily-ever-afters. I want them to like me, and I want to like them. Blake says they will love me, just like he does, but I’m nervous.

Don’t talk about dead bodies. Don’t talk about decomposition. In fact, don’t talk about work at all.

Yeah, that’s probably my best bet. I’ll talk about . . . the weather, cute puppy dogs, and rainbows. That’s normal people stuff, right?

Hell if I know. I haven’t had a regular conversation since . . . I don’t know when. I talk to people at work now that they don’t give me a hard time anymore, but the other folks in the sheriff’s department talk about weird cases, gross calls, and stupid suspects.

Holly talks about her work and shitty guys she’s dating, though I think Jacob might be finally wearing her down. He just might have a chance at getting at least a pizza date out of her before long.

And Jacob talks about school, video games, and Holly. That boy is a hundred percent head over heels for her, despite the age difference, his youth, and more. But he’s becoming a good man. I mean, anyone who can go to community college and ignore all the pussy there in favor of a single mom? Weird . . . but in a good way.

And Blake and me?

We talk about random, oddball trivia facts along with our talks about our days. Which brings me back to . . . don’t talk about work.

I finger the wooden pendant at my throat absently, hoping for some sense of calm.

“Nervous?” Blake asks, seeing my gesture. He takes one hand off the wheel to lay it on my thigh, giving me a reassuring squeeze before returning his hands to ten and two o’clock.

Yeah, I still like to give him a hard time about that fender bender, but he’s an excellent driver and it probably was my fault.

Maybe.

But I won’t admit that to him. Doesn’t matter, anyway.

“A little.” That I will admit.

“Do you have any idea how excited they are to meet you? Amy threatened to show up on my doorstep and ‘kidnap you her damn self’ if I didn’t bring you to brunch today.”

I bark out a laugh in surprise. Maybe they won’t be so bad if Amy is joking about kidnapping me. It’s soon, but I can get the twisted humor in the non-threat. “Surprisingly, that does help.”

“Where is she?” a female voice shouts from deep in the house as Blake opens the door without knocking. “Move out of the way, Frosted Blakes. Let me at her.”

The woman who peeks around Blake for point-oh-two seconds before shoving him out of her way is smaller than I expected. Blake talks about his sister like she’s larger than life, but perhaps that’s her presence, not her size? Petite, with a pixie haircut that flips out all over her head like cowlicks but which I’m betting takes product and skill to get that effect, and bright eyes that sparkle. I’ve seen that look . . . on Blake.

“You must be Amy?” I say, holding my hand out properly.

“Pshaw, you can stop with that mess. We’re huggers.” She proves it a moment later by swallowing me up in her arms like we’re long lost friends. I look over Amy’s head to Blake, who is smiling widely, but I can see a sheen in his eyes. I think today is just as important to him as it is to me, despite his repeated assertions that it’s ‘no big deal’.

“I’m so glad to meet you . . . finally.” The last bit seems to be a barb thrown at Blake because he chuckles.

“Sorry, Sis. Was kinda busy prepping her for you so she wouldn’t run away screaming. You’re a lot, you know?”

Amy doesn’t look offended in the slightest. In fact, she seems to take it as a compliment. “No excuse. If she can’t handle your family, she can’t handle you.”

“How about being kidnapped and almost dying? Does that excuse count?” I deadpan.

Amy blanches, her buzzing energy freezing in place as she cuts her eyes to me. I wait two long seconds before letting her off the hook, giggling. “Just kidding. Well, I mean I was kidnapped and thought I was gonna die, but that’s not why we didn’t come yet. I told Blake I wouldn’t meet his family until he took me on a proper date. He did last night, so here I am.”